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Tuesday, 15 January 2013

Table Therapy (part 2)

Today’s
post is a continuation from last week. If you haven’t caught up with part 1 you
can do so here before continuing...

Table
Therapy – part 2

The following day I busied myself with the wood
putty. There is something glorious about mixing and squishing that stuff in
your hands, slowly but surely making a new colour from two. Perhaps it has
something to do with old childhood memories of play dough or is the reason pigs
revel in mud? Whatever the reason, I gently pushed the putty into the larger
cracks with the aid of a small spatula, smoothing the lumps over with my
fingers. Standing back to admire my handiwork the stirring movement transposed
into a soft hum.

With anticipation I watched as my husband fastened
the support beams he had fashioned earlier that day; loathe to add something so
unoriginal to a vintage item but knowing we had little choice. The time to
reattach the table top had finally come. My task was to hold the planks down as
firmly as my strength would allow while he crawled underneath with a drill and
screwdriver. The table was soon whole again.

All along I had been conscious of a developing
refrain but experienced the magnitude of its power while working my way around
the table top, encouraging the beeswax polish into the grain. The table had
beauty despite how dry and parched the wood had been from so many years of
neglect. Now it absolutely sang as the fibres drank up the moisture - a rich
soulful harmony from deep within the heart, starting out gently and increasing
in intensity. I revelled in the silent symphony.

Somewhere in that profoundly healing moment the
realization came that I was experiencing soul therapy. Pausing, rag in hand, I
pondered the table’s song. A chord resonated deep within me.

My soul had been dry and my paint was chipped.
Cracks had appeared. Life’s dings and bangs and bruises covered me. Broken, I
had foolishly believed that nothing valuable was left to offer. And yet…there
was.

‘A bruised reed he
will not break and a smouldering wick he will not snuff out’ (Isaiah 42:3).

Though my very being desperately desired to hide
these imperfections from the world, the graceful old table boldly proclaimed
that evidence of such things is what gives rise to character…

Lost in my reverie, little attention had been paid
to the polish in my hand. Dabbing the rag in to get some more I happened to
glance into the tin. At the bottom where the polish was gone a heart shape
emerged in the wax.

‘God demonstrates
his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.’
(Romans 5:8)

Never believing for a moment this was mere
coincidence, a smile spread across my lips as my soul joined in the chorus…

The table is finished now. Is it perfect? No. Does
it still bear the scars of its life? Yes. Is there evidence of where we have
fixed it? Absolutely! But it is well loved all the same; a table with a story
to tell. God has used this table to remind me that ‘he has made all things beautiful in his time’ (Ecclesiastes
3:11). If only we will allow him to.

So often I get frustrated with my inabilities, my
perceived areas of failure, and my stumblings. My chipped paint and cracks
leave me feeling weak. But then God speaks. He says, ‘“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in
weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so
that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight
in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For
when I am weak, then I am strong.’ (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

2 comments:

Wonderful! You did an amazing job on that table. There is something really cool about stuff with such history, huh? I love all of the things you said in this post. I also love the table decor. The birdcage and the color of the dishes are just the sort of thing I would have on a table! We have a lot of similarities I guess! Very shabby chic looking. Love how it turned out.

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About Me

A little girl lives inside me. I imagine she looks very much like the picture of my younger self hanging on the wall, with her big blue eyes and wavy brown hair. Unhindered by life's burdens she laughs and dances on her coffee table stage to songs about her majestic God. She doesn’t realise just how precious she is or that her world is about to change…
She reminds me that no matter what life has brought it is not who I am - just my circumstances. She helps me to choose joy and encourages me to see all the glittering treasures along the way. I hope they bring a smile to your face as they have to mine.